


Want To Shelter You

by MixterGlacia



Series: Hepcat History [4]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Multi, Self-Hatred, Someone Please Hug Nicky V
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 12:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9896876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MixterGlacia/pseuds/MixterGlacia
Summary: Self-Hate spirals are a part of life as far as Nick cares. He doesn't deserve to be happy.





	

There were some perks to being a synth. Not having to dedicate precious time or caps into food, not to mention the storage it requires. Eliminating the need for clean water. Carrying things that a Buffout junkie couldn’t even begin to dream of. Being able to quite literally adjust his sight to any environment. Natural precision. Superb math skills...there’s only so many ways Nick can think of before those seeds of self loathing start taking root firmly in the back of his mind. Tonight was shaping up to be a doozy of a spiral. **  
**

* * *

 

Who was he trying to fool? Himself he’d assume. This wasn’t the sort of thing to be brought up in normal conversation. Even the rare times when he was talking with another synth, (presuming that said synth is sentient and friendly) the topic seemed wildly inappropriate. Nick was playing himself like an old fiddle whose strings had snapped years before. His bad hand made a grinding sound when it instinctively curled into a loose fist. Damn sand. Damn coastal breeze. Damn salt water. Damn Nordhaga-. The thought screeches to a sudden halt, and Nick is left with the guilt snapping at his heels.

He looks out over the water, moonlight lazily shimmering on slicks of fuel that had run off from the airstrip across the way. If he didn’t know better, didn’t know about the dangers lurking beneath the foam, he’d say it looked inviting. Nick knew that Paddy adored this stretch of sand. The ghoul had put so many weeks into making it a home away from Goodneighbor. Poured hundreds of caps into shipments until he’d cleared the way for a supply line into the sleepy spot. He didn’t stop there, building Shoreline Shelter as a refuge for the wounded travelers that passed through, always hunting for something more.

“I know there’s more, Val’.”

Nick almost falls off the roof. Whirling around, he expected Pad’ to be smirking. Not like Hancock, whose grins always threatened to split his face in half, but the slight upturn to the corner of his mouth. All he finds are those keen eyes, almost perceptive enough to rival his own. The ghoul makes a gesture to be quiet, pointing down.

“Hancock’s asleep.” Is all the explanation he sees fit to give.

“How’d you get that to happen?”

Paddy doesn’t respond. Instead, he just ghosts over to his favorite chair, motioning for Nick to take a seat as well. A pack of cigarettes is already being opened and offered to the synth when he shuffles over.

They smoke in silence for some time, tension drawing Nick’s shoulders into an impressive hunch before he mumbles a question.

“Whadd’ya mean about there being more?”

Paddy hums, settling back into his armchair, staring out over the water. “More good about being a synth.”

“You -sure- you’re not some kinda mind reader or something?” He blurts out before he can think it through, metal hand twitching nervously.

The ghoul just leans over, lightly tapping at the ragged hole in Nick’s facial plating. “The mechanisms in your neck and jaw get tense and tick more rapidly when you think hard. Just picked what I thought was bothering you from what I already know.”

“Is that supposed to be insulting?”

“No.”

“Cause it felt insulting.”

“Sorry.” The sheepish way Paddy said this made Nick feel totally rotten inside.

It became quiet again, but the ghoul was the one to break it this time.

“Remember how I hauled you out of that vault?” He’s still staring over the water, probably keeping an eye on the airport. It still made Nick feel uncomfortable.

“Well, yeah, it wasn’t that long ago-”

“A year” Pad’ quips. “Down to the hour.”

“How the hell do know know that?” Nick is admittedly a little bit stunned.

“Notes.” Is stated like it’s totally normal, and not a big deal at all.

The synth had no idea Paddy kept track of things like this. Couldn’t believe a year had slipped by unnoticed. Hell, he needed a tune up, but who’d tend to his sorry ass? Could he even find someone with not only the willingness, but know how to fix a prototype?

“Val’, c’mon stay with me.” He faintly hears, before a hand is on his arm. The touch is so gentle, but he know all too well what those hands can do. Still, it steadies him.

“I’m here, I’m here.” A beat passes. “...Wait, hold the phone, why are -you- here? Shouldn’t you be in la la land with Hancock?”

“As in asleep or high?” There’s that edge of dry humor he’d been waiting for. It wasn’t over the top, but it suited the ghoul just right.

“I sure hope it’s the former.” Nick retorts, optics flickering slightly.

Paddy snorts, the night casting deep shadows on his face. Nick could almost see the man he’d been before the bombs. Not that it was difficult. He was aware that the scars that tore across his partner's face had all been there since his early twenties. Still, the synth couldn’t help but wonder what he’d looked like in his childhood. Had he been happy? Was he always so serious and quiet? If not...what happened?

The rasp of paper alerted Nick, glancing over, he watched the ghoul start working on some sort of map. Scarred hands carefully plotting out points, eyes darting over a ragged book propped up against his knee. It had been a long time since Nick had felt shameful for his gaze lingering on Pad. Keeping someone alive took an attentive eye. Besides, if he was bothered by it, the ghoul would tell him to knock it off. (He’d been snapped at before because he’d hauled the fella away from a ledge by his belt with no warning.)

Tension faded with each scratch of the pen. Nick had started running some diagnostics in the background when Paddy spoke again.

“Val’.”

The man in question sat up in his chair a bit. “What’s up?”

“What am I to you?” While it didn’t -sound- like a loaded question, suspicion cropped up at the back of Nick’s mind.

“I -uh, I don’t get what you’re angling for-”

“I’m not angling. Just wanted to know how you feel about us. Hadn’t asked you in a long time.” The honesty in his tone did things to Nick that he’d never admit, but the effect was clear as day.

“Feels like something in my CPU snapped, because something as pretty as you wanting me is just...it just can’t be real. Can’t happen to a dirty old thing like me. I don’t mean pretty as in looks, either, I mean you are but-” he stops, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “What I mean is, you got this -way- about you. It’s like you’re wielding pre-war manners like it’s a weapon. It’s how you see right through all sorts of lies, but you sort them out different for everyone. You humored Deacon by playing along. You took -none- of the Brotherhood’s shit, but if it’s a little kid like the one at Bunker Hill? You just look the other way. You -knew- Bobbi was lying to you, but you gave her as many opportunities to call the whole thing off as you could. When she refused to take the hints, you put her down like Finn.”

Nick’s optics flicker as he keeps going. “You’re fair, but brutal. You ain’t just standing still, it’s like you’re lying in wait. You just breathe life into everything, everyone you meet. I just don’t see what you get out of being like this! All this work and you don’t ask for a single cap!”

“I get paid.” Paddy cuts in.

“Yeah, but you never -ask- for it. You’ve been short changed so much, I don’t even know how you keep this place a float!” Nick throws his arms up, frustrated and trying to not lose his cool.

“The only thing with an unlisted price is surgical work and check ups. I charge for-” the ghoul ticks off fingers as he speaks. “Chems, water, sugar, produce, meat-”

“You’re too damn nice, Logan!” Nick blurts out.

The stare Paddy levels him with nails him to the floor. “I’m not nice, Nick.”

Hearing the ghoul use his first name sends a small shiver through the synth. It was very rare that Pad called him anything other than Val’.

“I’m -fair-. I don’t get outta bed at night to make a meal for a stranger, but if they show up when I’m feeding the Davenports? Sure, they can have some. They demand to stay when I’ve got overnight patients? Get the fuck out of my sight, but if they just need a place for a bit and I’ve got a free cot? That’s fine.” The paper he’d been working on is tucked into the old book, it’s cover snapping shut.

“Fair, but brutal. Like you said.”

Nick felt ill, words frothing up in his throat like bile. “You are, and I ain’t fucking worth it!” His internals feel like they’re burning holes in his plating. “I don’t deserve you! I’m an old, busted toy that should have stayed in that pile of trash! I’m no good for a pretty thing like you, who am I trying to fool, damnit?!” He doesn’t care that he’s shouting. There’s no stopping, even if he wanted to. “You save lives, you lead the Minutemen, you’re practically spitting in the Brotherhood’s face, taking this place and flying the Railroad’s colours-” The words die in his throat when Paddy grabs the sleeve of his coat, yanking him over the small table set between their chairs, forcing him to look right at those intense eyes.

“Damn straight I’m doing it to piss them off. But you’re right. Something in your CPU -must- be fried if you think I don’t see the entire gods damned universe in all its glory when I look at you. I need you to listen to me, Nick, analyze all you want, I’m laying down the truth here. All them things you see in me? I see even more in you. I see the man that saved little John McDonough from himself when he was nineteen and wanted to slam down enough chems until he stopped breathing. I see the synth that is the one, and I do mean -one good thing- left in Diamond City.”

Paddy’s hands drift to Nick’s shoulders, resting there as he spoke. “I see the cop that took out Eddie Winter when he could have just let the old Nicky V’s flame die out. I can see the pain from not being able to tell Hancock why you didn’t chase him down when Goodneighbor was overthrown.” A scarred thumb brushes over what’s left of his chin. “I see that unshakeable guilt you carry over what happened to me. I see how much you hate what you are, and the shame of feeling like you’re not real. That you’re not enough. I see all of that hurt in you.”

Pressure on his jaw makes him focus again. Paddy is so close he can feel his breath. His eyes catch light from the lanterns, fire dancing in them.

“But that hurt isn’t who you are.” Nick feels like if he were human tears would be rolling down his cheeks. “I -know- who you are, Val’, and it’s not what your head keeps telling you.”

“W-Who am I, then?” Even his voice seems broken.

“You’re the first one that taught me it was okay to love again after the bombs. To love the stars like I did when I was little and running through the field behind my house. To love the thrill of the chase. To love this hellhole. To love others.” The fingers that had been brushing over his jaw still. “To love -myself- again... so stop belittling yourself, Val’. You and Hancock mean -everything- to me, and you make me want to make the Commonwealth a better place.”

Nick isn’t entirely sure when the ghoul had started kissing him, but when he catches on, he clings tightly to Paddy’s broad shoulders, just letting himself get lost in it. Eventually his partner needs to come up for air and they pull apart, foreheads pressed together. The synth is intently studying Pad’s face when the moment is shattered by a loud creak of the stairs.

He turns to see Hancock watching with a sleepy smile, leaning on the landing.

“Beautifully said,” He nods to Paddy. “Couldn’t have worded it better if I tried, Big Guy.”

“Obviously.” Snarks Pad, though the tone has nothing but fondness to it. He motions for their third to join them.

As the two ghouls are drifting back off, something clicks into place for Nick. He needed them, and  he finally admits to himself that they needed him too.

**Author's Note:**

> LET ME HUG THE TOASTER.


End file.
